


Grey Areas

by BadOldWest



Category: Jane Eyre (2006), Jane Eyre - All Media Types, Jane Eyre - Charlotte Brontë
Genre: Edward has Jane read porn, F/M, Oral Sex, Smut, This is probably blasphemy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 23:59:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8180740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadOldWest/pseuds/BadOldWest
Summary: She forgets that sometimes when he has a choice to do the right thing, he does the wrong thing. Set before their first attempt at a wedding. About as OOC as you need to get to have Jane do anything sexual premaritally. So depending on your interpretation, either incredibly or not at all.





	

“Think of it as a kiss, Jane.”

She forgets that sometimes when he has a choice to do the right thing, he does the wrong thing. 

She knows the generous intentionality of Edward Rochester. She knows that he loves her, fully and completely. But she sometimes found that even though he was completely motivated by her happiness, at times specifically seeking her pleasure, he would do the wrong thing. 

She rests her book to the side, scandalized. It was wickedness enough to allow her fiance, even a week before the wedding, to rest his head in her lap as she read on the settee of his private study. Because she trusted him to do the right thing, she consented begrudgingly, even though her primary motivation was that his pleading, kisses to her neck and whispers in her ear to allow him were becoming harder and harder to deny. 

Objections fall sloppily from her lips, for they had to be made, but she can not manage to pay attention to them as the left. She’s not even sure what he means by this kiss, only that it stands somewhere between what they have safely done and what they must not do. With caution, she realizes he is leading her to the gap between those two places, and she has no way of telling how wide that gap is, what it might include. 

“It is a kiss, Jane,” he affirms, “And you’ve taken no offense by my lips before.”

“I am curious, Mr. Rochester…”

His head tilts up smugly, “Yes, my little bird? Let me quell your curiosity.”

“ _ Curious _ as to how we have found ourselves on this topic, sir,” she replies coolly, but her fingers are tangled in his hair, absently toying with it. The slight tugs at the roots he feels are driving him to his next actions, or so he would justify. 

“Mr. Rochester, one would think you would be more capable of waiting the closer we draw to the night I am yours in body. Does one week make you so in earnest, when I heard nothing of this when you had to look forward to a month of waiting?”

Instead of answering, he eyes her carefully as she takes up the book once again, a recommendation of his. 

“How far along are you on that novel, Jane?”

“Not far sir, as I have dedicated the afternoon to reading it and you have dedicated the afternoon to distracting me from that task.”

“Do me a favor, sweet little governess, and press onward to page 74.”

“I should think I would miss a great deal of the plot if I were to do that.”

He snorts at this, but more as a joke to himself. “Will you place your trust in my request?”

“It is under your instruction that I am reading this book, so I can assume there is motive under your recommendation.Therefore I shall do as you request, though you hardly deserve it.”

His laughter shakes her lap, his head tilted back to look up at her. 

“Hardly a model of obedience still, a week away from being my bride.”

She smiles to herself, flipping the pages. She’s not sure what he means until she fixes her eyes on the page, not given the chance to try and find her footing before her eyes land on  _ her master, hidden safely under her skirts beneath the table, tortured her to frantic wriggling with the talented licks of his tongue.  _

The book drops to the rug, as Jane has tossed it down like it has burned her.

“Edward!”

He seems oblivious to her horror, a hand rounded on her hip to keep her seated. 

“I cannot believe you would force such a scene upon me. I will not be a part of such wickedness, even with the man who is to be my husband.”

“Pick it up Jane. Read a little further.”

She leans back in the settee, rightly pinned under his body’s weight across her lap, as he probably planned. 

When she does not comply, his free arm dips to the floor and retrieves the book. 

“Kind, doting fiance that I am, I shall continue for you. I may have to retreat back up the page to make sure you caught all the details.”

Jane, cheeks flaming, sits in bitter silence as he flips through the pages and clears his throat, stone faced as though he is giving a sermon. Even though his voice comes out like a silky caress. 

“ _ He found her a delectable creature, so overcome with the thought he was consumed with a need to taste her, to see how that desire crossed over senses. While the little lady doth protest, her furtive rejection proved to be unmotivated as he sank to his knees in front of her, hitching her skirts around her full hips. She gave way to her most base desires, not knowing what she needed until she got exactly that, with his tongue coaxing her sweet nether lips apart to devour the taste of her. _ ”

“Please, do not.”

Jane’s protest is weak, not from the power of the words but for his hand wrapped around her ankle of all places, drifting circles around the thin skin over the bone and sending shivers up her spine. 

“It’s merely a kiss Jane, nothing more.”

He didn’t look at her as he spoke the words, but he is looking at her now, sitting up and leaning close to her face, allowing her no escape. 

His subtle manipulation has come full circle, as this point was meant to be informed by her further reading. Such a lesson he had meant for her, despite her position as the house’s governess. 

“It is different.”

“You’ve taken pleasure from my mouth before, have you not?”

“Not by the means in which you’re referring!”

His lips ghost over hers, denying her the pleasure that she suddenly remembered she needed. 

“Do my kisses not bring you pleasure, Jane?”

Her deep shame is apparent on her face, arms crossed tightly over her chest as though she means to shield herself. 

At this, she relents, her lips seeking his warmth. 

He groans with a leonine triumph, securing his hands around her waist and drawing her closer. 

“Just let me kiss you, my fairy. Let me taste you.”

Her arms are around him, and she instinctively squeezed his body closer to hers. The contact, once granted, is something she can never bear to be parted from. It is relenting to him, letting him do the wrong thing, that she knew would be her undoing. 

Still, she finds herself divulged of her dress, lying on the floor of his study in her shift, panting and writhing in want of his kiss. 

His hands still at her waist, as though he was going to make impassioned work of her breasts, but stopped before persisting. 

“Just my kiss,” he says softly, more to himself than to her. His lips slide along her neck, sucking and licking,, as she tries to make work of what he said. He seems to respect her request for their wedding night, despite what they are working for; she stays in her shift and he bares nothing he hasn’t seen before. 

Her legs are parted, and he falls between them, grinding his pelvis into hers, and it’s his apparent want of her that has her responding in kind, even with her unpractised desire. 

“Will you have me taste you?” 

“Yes,” she breathes, still not knowing, still unsure, but wanting.

The word seems to be what he was waiting for. 

Edward leans back and widens her parted legs. He takes in her inner thighs as though they are a trophy of his great success. He has fought valiantly for the sight, and his gaze dips lower.

“Please, Edward,” she stutters, a harsh swallow dipping down her chest, “if you must make me submit to you, please do not give me leave to think on it as you take your time.”

His dark eyes flash with a barely-suppressed passions, she had not realized how much he held back until he was so close to acting on all of them. 

“Jane, you will still be my sweet little virgin on our wedding night, and not just in my eyes.” he reaches up to take her shaking hands in his, “I will not breach you, I promise.”

She seems to soften at this, to the fact that she wasn’t giving everything, that she could hold on to this information she barely understood. 

Sensing her surrender, his arms and around her hips, and he gives the seam of her sex a slow, luxurious kiss. She is silent with shock, hands gripping his head without realizing she made such a grab for him. 

She knows he’s smirking when he works little gasps and cries out of her, knows him well enough without seeing his face, which is busy with its sensual work on her body, the place he isn’t supposed to see for another week. 

She is not sure she can wait another week to experience this again. The passion he so clearly saw mirrored from himself in her is rattling at its cage. She wants to be free, and it feels as though his lips are picking the lock she has set on herself. 

He suckles at her clit, a pleasure she never knew crashing through her as he works it with gentle pulls from his lips. 

He seems to know what’s happening to her, as she does not, but he is making careful work for it to happen. She dimly is able to notice the procision her fiance is applying to pleasing her, making good use of skills earned from ill deeds. But she has to trust him now. 

His tongue dips down, sliding inside her just barely, obviously not enough to make a difference to her purity but a feeling inside she has never had before. Her hips try to both resist and comply, and the shock and pleasure of it all has her splayed out in front of him with a violent orgasm, the first in her life and the most shocking and magical thing she has ever felt. He persists, and she is now curled into him in horror of what could possibly be next, what could possibly be more. Again, she has to trust him as his tongue dances against her cunt. 

With a shudder she realizes there was not simply actively doing good and actively doing wrong. And that grayness of being sends her spiraling again. She feels his whole upper body seize with pride as he presses more furtively against her, having won, and truly won this fight with her and won it well. He holds her down and finishes her off, making sure she will have no complaints over his attentions. Maybe one. Maybe ‘too much’.

He’d long ago found the natural cradle of her hips, when he managed to splay her legs enough to fit between them. His brow finds her rough-carved hipbone, strokes his nose along the harsh curve before returning to rest his head against it. 

“My wild fairy,” He murmurs, seemingly drugged in the act of giving her pleasure, and receiving no knowing action from her to spur his own on. 

She can’t quite allow herself to do the wrong thing, no matter how his nature bleeds into hers. But sometimes, sometimes she can let him do the wrong thing, if he can manage to convince her. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah... I don't know how I did with this one. I might keep doing it though.


End file.
